You Can't Hide by Theresa Sneed (uplifting novels TXT) 📕

Dear Karin,

Your words. Oh, my. They were just what I needed. I can’t say I’m cured, no, not at all, but I do feel so much better about myself. You’re right about what we say to ourselves—I am an important person, and thanks to you, I remember that now. Have a super great day, you wonderful person.

Love,

Somebody Important

Nancy stared at the letter. She had to admit, it felt good to know she’d helped someone with her words. She sighed and then looked around. What do I do now? One of the women glanced up at her and gestured toward a basket with unopened letters. The slush pile, is what they called it, the last time she was there. Letters that needed to be answered, but hadn’t been claimed yet.

Not wanting to bypass anyone, she took the first letter that grazed her fingertips. The return address, as in all of the others, only had a name written on the envelope—Too Young.

She blinked. Too Young probably needed someone more her age who understood young women. Hold on there, Nancy, Sally’s young. With reluctance, she opened the letter and found a quiet place to read.

To Whom It May Concern,

I don’t know how to write this, but I’ll give it a try. I’m 13 going on 14. I’m a girl, but I’m not pretty. Everyone makes fun of me. They call me Fatty Patty, because my name’s Patricia. Eating makes me happy—they make me sad—eating makes me happy again—they make me sad again, and it goes on and on. I want out, I mean, I really want out.

Too Young to be Fatty Patty

Shocked, she jumped up. What did Patty mean by that? She turned the letter over and over in her hands. Was Patty crying out for help? What did she mean?

She’d bring it to Sofia’s attention the second she saw her, in the meantime, she furiously penned an answer.

Dear Patty,

I’m at a loss for words, dear. What do you mean, you want out? I can only hope that you mean you want to get out of the vicious cycle you’ve settled into—eating when one is unhappy never ends, because being unhappy just happens. Look at it this way, if we didn’t have the unhappy times, how could we really appreciate the happy ones?

She stared at her words for a while. That affirmation was straight out of her life, but she hadn’t realized it until now. She put pen back to paper.

That’s a fact, sweetheart. But, the good news is that if you make up your mind to get out of the cycle, things will begin to happen to you that you’d never believed were possible. I promise this is true.

First of all, you will feel better—physically and emotionally. Overeating drains you. It makes you tired, makes you feel bad about yourself, and makes you feel bad about those around you.

Sure the kids that are making fun of you are wrong, but, now, here’s the hard part, don’t get angry at me for writing this, but, you’re even more wrong than they are. Harsh. I know. But true.

You’re not taking care of yourself—and you’re the only one that can take care of you.

You’re overeating, not them, and you’re blaming them for your choices.

You’re letting them have power over you – why, sweetie?

Until you decide to take charge of yourself, this cycle will continue. Stop it now, and watch your body transform—it’s simple, laws of nature, Patricia—trust them. I suggest low calories, exercise, and no snacking – there’s no magic pill needed, just sensible eating.

I care,

Keep in Touch,

Karin

She read it and then reread it again. Still worried that there was more meaning to Patty’s letter, she decided to not seal it yet. She’d found a wooden bench behind a short brick wall, lined with flowering vines. Spring had hit Massachusetts and everything was in bloom. Looking over the short wall, she saw Sofia at the white table. A wave of relief flowed over her—Sofia would know what to do about Patty’s cryptic note.

She didn’t follow proper protocol when approaching Sofia, just waved the letter in her face, and said in an exasperated voice, “How can you tell if they’re, you know, in trouble?”

Sofia looked up at her. She seemed slightly perturbed to be interrupted during her writing, but when she saw it was Nancy, she smiled.

“Nancy. So good to see you.” Her eyes fell to the note in Nancy’s hand. “Oh, Patty’s letter.”

Nancy sat down. “Oh, you know?”

She shrugged. “Of course.” She stood and motioned for Nancy to follow her to a more private place, where their talking wouldn’t disturb the others. Over in a corner away from earshot of the ladies, she said, “All of the letters are perused before getting to us. They are handpicked. Any letter that seems suspicious is investigated—Patty’s was. I went to see her myself, well, from afar,” she added. “Her therapist has a copy of her note and though she cannot discuss it with me, assured me that Patty is fine. Apparently, she’s a bit melodramatic, but they are watching her, and giving her the counsel that she needs.”

“Huh.” Relieved, Nancy sighed. “I had wondered how we got all these letters. Who handpicks them, and how do the women know to even write to us?”

“It’s a program called, Letters to a Friend, and it’s made available to a few select organizations.”

“How do they get here?”

She shrugged. “I think Wendy picks them up and brings them here.”

“Oh.”

Sofia gave her an odd look. “So, what do you think about Elle’s book?”

She had nearly forgotten. “It’s amazing.”

“Yes,” Sofia said. “It’s only been out for a few weeks and it’s already on the best seller list, but,” she said cautiously, “the publishing company is getting requests to meet the author.”

“Wow.” This anonymity thing was going to be hard. “She’ll not want that, Sofia.”

She nodded. “I figured as much, that’s why I had them pay me, and then I wrote Elle a personal check. Paying